


not to be let alone

by civillove



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: “She has to tell three different people that the blood all over her is not hers and that she doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”--decided that I really wanted to focus on Dani’s shaky hands in a fic thanks to that beautiful scene in the finale of Prodigal Son *chef kisses*
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 135





	not to be let alone

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: descriptions of blood, keep yourself safe!

_“Let you alone? That’s all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need **not to be let alone.** We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real? - Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451)_

_\--_

Dani sighs as she surfaces from a subway, the last few steps managing to give her a run for her money. There’s something about New York subway stairs that, no matter how in shape she is, they always seem to squeeze the bottom of her lungs. She supposes it has something to do with how steep they are and combined with the fact that she doesn’t have her regular, comfortable boots that she tends to wear to work probably makes a difference.

She gathers a deep breath in and tugs down her leather jacket overtop of the black jean skirt, her heeled booties clicking against the pavement as she digs out her phone and presses on his name to redial his number. She’s still a few decent blocks away from her apartment but as her shoes pinch her toes, she recalls that it was _her_ idea to take a few subways instead of trying to find parking spaces by driving.

Bright picks up on the third ring and before he can say anything, Dani apologizes with, “Told you I was going to lose you in the subway.”

She can picture him shrugging his shoulder, he sounds the slightest bit occupied, “S’fine, you know I’m up anyways.”

Dani purses her lips, pausing at a crosswalk and lets out a slow breath as she listens to him tinker with something across the line. It sounds like metal and shuffling and part of her wants to ask what he’s doing and the other says it’s probably better that it remains a mystery.

“Are you home yet?” He asks and a soft smile tugs the corners of her mouth before she drags the toe of her boot onto the pavement, the light turning green so she can begin walking again.

“Almost, about three blocks out.” A loud clutter greets her in response; he’s definitely dropped something. “What are you doing?”

“I’m polishing my axes.”

A laugh sneaks up on her and she can hear the gentle smirk of his breath through the phone, smiling at the sound of her, “It’s almost one AM.”

“When’s a better time? Though I guess I could be like you, walking home from a date.” She scrunches her nose because it’s a little late, even for her, but the guy she was meeting hadn’t shown up on time. It created a domino effect in which she couldn’t wait to be home and in bed to forget she ever said yes in the first place.

“He didn’t even offer to drive you home?”

Dani licks her lips, biting her tongue so she doesn’t comment on Malcolm’s general sense of chivalry, “Oh he did, trust me, but I really didn’t want to get into his car. Or have him know where I lived.”

Bright hums softly and she can tell he’s set the phone down, putting her on speaker. There’s a soft scrubbing against her eardrum and she almost asks what the process is for polishing axes and how many he’s going to do before the night is over but she doesn’t feel like getting a thirty-minute dissertation on the subject.

“That bad?”

Dani turns the corner, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck as she tries to put into words how unpleasant it really was. At least the food had been good? “Let’s just say he offered to pay because ‘I clearly don’t make enough money as a police officer’—and he was doing me a favor as a lawyer.”

She can see the look on Bright’s face even though he only makes a noise of irritation, “You didn’t shoot him, did you?”

She grins, dipping her chin as she pauses at another crosswalk. “No, too much paperwork.”

A laugh empties into the receiver, warmly wrapping around her shoulders. “Right.”

Dani is about to say something else when a sound catches her attention from behind her and she pauses even though the crosswalk turns green. She pulls her phone back from her other ear, eyes grazing over the brownstone a few inches away. It’s quiet; the only sounds surrounding her are New York bustle, cars, taxi horns, people walking on a crowded cross street up ahead. Bright is saying her name on the other end of the phone but she muffles it against her skirt as she closes the distance between her and the steps of the brownstone, that same noise coming from within.

It sounds like a woman yelling, a struggle, but she grinds her heels into the ground and jumps through many hoops of second guessing herself. For all she knows, it could be a TV that’s on too loud or a couple arguing; neither of them really giving her probable cause to intervene.

She clears her throat as the noises fade out, an unnerving blanket of quiet once again pressing onto her shoulders as she brings the phone up to her ear and tells Malcolm she has to call him back. Pocketing her phone, she walks up the steps of the brownstone and considers knocking, running a hand through her curls. Her gut is telling her to go in even though the only thing that’s greeting her is silence. Dani digs her badge out of her small clutch and knocks on the door; she needs to be able to at least talk to someone inside or this is going to bother her the whole night.

She had felt a little ridiculous bringing her badge and gun on a date with her but it was so second nature at this point that being without them felt strange too. When a blood-curdling scream sounds from the inside, Dani backs up so that she has enough room to kick the door down. It takes two hard hits, but she raises her gun and announces herself as an officer, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of the place she’s stepped into.

Her heart is pounding in her ears, almost drowning out any sound but her training kicks into automatic as she checks her corners and blind spots, working her way down the hallway and turning into a living room.

There, just over the back of the couch and near a fireplace is a dark shadow of a man hovering over a woman on the ground. “Freeze, NYPD, don’t move—”

Dani’s voice forces him into action and he moves, so quickly in the inky blackness, that she can barely see him. She fires a warning shot and thinks she might have grazed his shoulder as he bends at the waist but hasn’t stopped moving towards the back door—he shoves it open so hard that it nearly cracks the frame and shatters the glass. And she has a decision that causes her to pause, only moments slipping out even though it feels like hours that she stands in place. She can either go after the perp or check on the woman. She knows that either decision is going to haunt her and regardless, reflexes begin to take over as she reaches for a lamp beside the couch and flips it on.

The fact that there’s so much blood seems to occur as an afterthought as she kneels in it, shrugging her leather jacket off to put under the head of the woman who’s coughing it up and reaching for her. Dani allows her to grab on, to ground herself even though she doesn’t want her to try and speak.

“Just breathe,” She tells her when she begins to struggle, her eyes grazing over too much carnage at once as she digs her cell phone out to call an ambulance. She feels herself going through the steps even though nothing about this is routine: she gives her badge number, a description of the perp into the receiver, she tells them that a plain-clothed officer is on scene and for someone to call Gil Arroyo before she puts her phone aside.

“There’s an ambulance on the way okay, you’re going to be fine.” Dani smooths hair back on her forehead, one of the only places not touched by blood, gently trying to help the woman sit up a little so she can breathe easier.

This is not the part of the scene Dani’s familiar with—she’s been a beat cop for a long time and some of those house calls stick with her…but she has to admit she’s gotten used to showing up _after_ a crime has taken place. The blood is warm and sticky on her legs and chest as she squeezes this woman’s arm, trying to get her to breathe instead of talk.

She hears sirens in the distance but knows as her eyes graze over the woman beneath her that they’re going to be too late. That part of her brain tries to click into gear, the one that appraises crime scenes and adds to Edrisa’s commentary of how someone died. Stab wounds, Dani swallows thickly, the woman’s clothes are in the way but she can tell its stab wounds. Multiple, blood spilling out of everywhere even though her hands reach for spots where she can add pressure.

It’s too late for that, slipping between her fingers, the woman shaking terribly against her chest. She tries to speak again but it’s garbled, strangled noises that barely leave her lips and Dani gently shushes her, smoothing her hair back before she eventually stops struggling.

There’s a silence that roars in her ears like an ocean.

\--

Everything around her feels like it’s happening in slow motion as she leans quietly against the back of the couch. The EMTs pronounce the woman dead on arrival and gently cover her with a sheet. Dani recounts what happened as much as she can, badge in hand, to the on-scene officers. She has to tell three different people that the blood all over her is _not_ hers and that she doesn’t need to go to the hospital.

That’s really the last thing she wants; if she has to have a doctor poke and prod at her, she might crack. Her one leg aches from kicking down the door, she might have broken the heel of her one bootie but other than that, she’s fine.

 _I’m fine_ —she repeats it many times, looking over her shoulder at the woman who’s gone, trying to swallow ‘what ifs’ deep down because she can’t think like that. She did everything by the book, she followed all the protocols. Breaking into this brownstone even five minutes earlier wouldn’t have made a difference, she knows that, even if it’s something she has to tell herself over and over.

“What?” She asks as she turns to look at a detective who’s been asking her questions, his eyes fluttering over her in a way that reminds her too much of Bright.

“I said, if you’re not going to get checked out by a doctor then I want to bring you to the station to get an official statement.”

She blinks, heat starting to boil under her skin because _seriously?_ “Tomorrow. I can give it first thing tomorrow.”

He clears his throat, looking the slightest bit annoyed as he slips a small notepad that he’s been writing on into his pocket. “It’s just a formality; you’re the only witness we have on scene.”

Before she has the chance to snap out her same reply or do something stupid, like hit him, Gil’s voice sounds from behind the officer, “You having trouble hearing, son? Detective Powell is one of us and she’ll be treated with that respect. If she told you she’ll give you a statement tomorrow, then that’s when it’ll be.” His voice is steel covered in velvet, unrelenting, and the officer bristles under the authority, nodding his head once before moving to another side of the crime scene.

She swallows thickly, trying to offer a small smile she doesn’t feel as Gil gently touches her arm. “Thanks.” She clears her throat, glancing up as JT, Malcolm and Edrisa with her team on her heels make their way into the brownstone and down the hall.

“No need to thank me,” He says as JT and Malcolm approach where they’re standing, both of their eyes falling onto her hard enough that she feels she might sink into the floor. “Junior has no idea we’re takin’ over this case, you won’t have to make a statement to anyone but us.”

“Damn girl,” JT offers in a hushed breath and she suddenly feels the need to wrap her arms around herself, to hide from their line of sight.

She clears her throat, straightening her shoulders as her arms fold across her chest, fingers trying to tuck her hair behind her ear despite the amount of blood caked on her skin. “I’m not hurt.”

Malcolm is biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, the muscle in his jaw working as he takes a look at her. His fingers are drawn up into his palms and she knows he wants to reach out to her, to offer comfort even though being touched is the last thing she wants. He chances a look at Edrisa, who is beginning to work on the body of the woman as she pulls the sheet back, his eyes skittering over the stab wounds and beginning to build a profile that he keeps to himself.

Dani hates being the center of attention; she can’t be the focus here. Not when a woman has lost her life—not when the person who did this is still out there because she let him get away. She turns suddenly, one of her hands falling to the back of the couch as her gaze absorbs the woman staining the carpet scarlet.

She can still feel her ragged breathing against her body, the warmth of her blood sinking into the fabric of her clothes and skin.

“I was walking home from a date and I heard screaming,” She says to the three men around her, “I did everything by the book, I waited to make sure it wasn’t a TV or just a…regular fight. When I heard more of a struggle, I broke in and announced myself.”

Malcolm glances at Gil as she speaks but she doesn’t notice that her voice is shaking until Gil tries to interrupt her,

“Dani, I meant what I said about getting your statement tomorrow.”

She swallows, shaking her head because…hasn’t she wasted enough time? The killer might still be in the area—if they just, if they work fast enough, if Edrisa does her initial work-up of the body and they build a profile to operate from. They’ve done things evenly paced before, what’s the difference now?

“The perp was six feet, uh, I couldn’t tell whether…he was definitely Caucasian and he had a beard. It was dark but with the streetlamps through the windows and a lamp on in the kitchen I could make that out, at least.”

Bright takes a step forward into her personal space, his hand reaching for the one she has resting on the back of the couch. Her fingers are trembling terribly and it’s not until he covers her hand with his own does she realize it. She lets out a short breath, trying to pull away but he won’t allow her to, her fingers curling up into his palm as he squeezes her.

“You know how this works better than anyone,” He says carefully and at least he doesn’t insult her intelligence or ability to do her job. This is the part she knows the best; the crime scene that she’s most familiar with. This is when the team comes in and begins collecting all the jagged pieces that will eventually fit together to build a complete image.

“It’s late, the majority of what we have to do is going to happen tomorrow.”

Gil nods his head, “Malcolm’s right. We’re going to do all we can here but the best thing for you is to go home and get cleaned up, get a good night sleep.” She feels herself begin to protest but he fixes her with a look that she knows is non-negotiable, “Dani, I’m not askin’.”

She swallows and takes one last glance over her shoulder at Edrisa leaning over the body of the woman who needed her help before Malcolm gently tugs her out of the brownstone.

\--

Her apartment is almost too quiet as she hangs up her purse when she walks through the doorway, pausing because—her leather jacket is evidence now, something she may never get back and honestly, she’s not sure if she even wants it. But she somehow feels naked without it, like a part of her is missing as she makes her way into her kitchen, Bright gently closing the door behind her.

He’s been quiet on the walk back and she knows that it’s for her benefit, that he probably has a ton of questions and comments bubbling up his throat that he’s not speaking because of the scene they found her in. Gil wants her to get a good night’s rest but she’s not sure how she’s supposed to do that; so many images and sounds replaying in her head that she feels stuck in the center of a Jackson Pollock painting. She’s going to have to force it at one point because she won’t be able to concentrate tomorrow without it. She needs to be able to give _anything_ she can to help find who did this.

She rubs at her forehead as she approaches her kitchen sink and yet, kind of stands there, unsure of what she was doing or what she needs to do. Dani should probably shower, that seems like the most logical step but her legs don’t want to take her to the destination, her knees wobbling at the concept.

She drums her fingers on the counter and wonders if changing her clothes and wiping herself down with a washcloth will somehow be enough for tonight. Rinsing off won’t mean she’ll be able to get rid of the blood completely anyways, right? She looks down at her hands and decides to start with them, turning the tap on and waiting for the water to get hot as she clumsily takes rings and bracelets off.

Dani can hear Malcolm milling around quietly behind her, no doubt with his hands behind his back because that’s what he always seems to do in her space. Carefully straddling that line that she’s pointed out to him because he struggles with boundaries, with over-stepping into her personal life as profiling seems to take over. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him take off his jacket and sets it over the back of her kitchen chair. He has a navy sweater on as he approaches the sink and begins rolling the sleeves up over his elbows, leaning against the counter.

His eyes are on her hands and wrists, on her testing the water which isn’t hot enough and pouring so much soap into her hands that she’s going to have a suds disaster in her sink when all is said and done. He hesitates, fingers tracing a shape burned into her counter that was left behind by a too hot pot being set down from the stove.

“Can I do anything?”

Dani shakes her head instantly, a sardonic laugh wanting to crawl up her throat because _what can you possibly do?_ She bites down on it, “No, I just need to clean up.”

Bright nods softly and rubs the back of his neck, keeping some commentary to himself even though she knows what he wants to say. Yes, a shower would be best but she doesn’t think she can do it. She’s struggling getting through the next few moments let alone the idea of completely undressing and showering and drying and putting another set of clothes on and crawling into bed. This though? Grabbing a washcloth and haphazardly removing blood from her hands? This she can accomplish with little to no effort.

“Can I make you a cup of tea?”

She pauses, her jaw clenching when she has to physically swallow her words. Something nasty curls in her stomach, a defense-mechanism to push him away wanting to take up every fiber of her being. She wonders if she’s angry enough that he’ll leave—or if she screams, snaps, pushes at him if it’ll be enough for him to let it go and walk out.

“No,” She repeats, rinsing her hands. There’s still blood underneath her fingernails and on the veins of her wrist, “I’m not even sure why you walked all the way up here with me.”

He smiles just a little at the corner of his mouth, “You say that as if you don’t live on the third floor. Wasn’t that much of a trek.”

She drops the washcloth and puts more soap onto her hands, “I’m serious.”

Malcolm briefly touches her wrist to get her stop fidgeting, her eyes finding his, “So am I. You know why I followed you up, let me help.”

Dani feels her chest cave in on itself and even if she had enough energy to push him away, she doesn’t, nodding her head as she turns to face him. He picks the washcloth up in the sink and silently begins to wipe at her skin—he starts with her fingers and meticulously goes under her nails the best he can before paying attention to splotches of red on her wrists. He runs the washcloth under the flow of water, the stream of suds turning pink as it slinks down the drain like a snake.

She leans against the counter, glancing down at her clothes; her blouse is surprisingly not too bad but even though her skirt is black, she knows it’s covered with dried blood. There are marks on her knees from crouching into the carpet and—

Dani jumps a little out of her skin as Bright moves the washcloth to her neck, a soft smile teasing his mouth at her reaction. “Sorry,” His voice has a gentle twinge of amusement as one of his hands moves her hair aside while the other swipes the cloth over spots to clean.

Malcolm then pays special close attention to her collarbone and the top of her one shoulder and returns the washcloth to the stream until the water runs clear. The washcloth is gently tinted rose and he adds a dollop of soap into the center, working it into soft suds before he draws his hand to her jawline, thumb brushing against her chin.

“It’s on your face.” He whispers and Dani sniffles before nodding, giving him permission to wipe it away.

She doesn’t even want to think about how that happened, the scene so chaotic that she’s surprised blood isn’t absolutely everywhere. She finds herself closing her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks and into the material of the washcloth as he cleans her up. He’s standing so close to her that she can feel the heat of his body against hers, the overwhelming comfort of his cologne and laundry detergent filling her senses.

The gentle intimacy of his touch paired with the sharp realization of what he’s cleaning up overwhelms her and the urge to speak—to fill the silence with something other than their breathing, builds up in her like a tea kettle about to whistle.

“I did everything wrong.” She says suddenly, the words spilling from her mouth.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, Malcolm carefully draws the washcloth back, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Dani licks her lips, tastes remnants of soap and copper— “I should have…I should have went after the perp.”

Bright sighs patiently, a gentle shake of his head as his eyes rinse over her. The blue in his gaze is swimming with something familiar; not quite sympathy but…understanding as he sets the washcloth down on the sink. Of course he empathizes with guilt,

“Dani,” The sound of her name on his lips creates a sensation against her spine, an aching feeling that overwhelms and digs between the bones.

Doesn’t he see it? Doesn’t he sense the regret that’s threatening to overwhelm her? Dani understands that stuff happens, that being a cop isn’t always black and white—that her job sometimes puts her in impossible situations where none of her decisions seem like the right one. But this? This somehow feels so _certain—_

“Or I could have gotten a better description of him and what happened when I was sitting with her. I was just… _sitting_ there—” She chokes out, her emotion betraying her as her hands begin to shake again, trying to forcibly stop it on her own by digging her nails into her palms.

“Listen,” Malcolm takes a step forward even though Dani mimics one back.

“I could have done something else, anything else to help our case.”

He takes her hands into his, preventing her from moving away, squeezing so the trembling isn’t as bad. “Listen to me,” He tries again, drawing her closer so that she looks up at him. He waits until her gaze is fixed on his own, “There’s nothing else that you could have done. You did everything you could, okay?”

Bright lets one of her hands go so he can cup the side of her head, fingers curling around the back of her skull, eyes searching her own for the correct response that somehow feels like it’s buried deep. It takes her a moment before she lets out a hiccupped breath that she’s been keeping in her lungs but she nods, hearing him, understanding.

“C’mere.”

Malcolm pulls her into his chest even though her body feels stiff, shoulders tight and muscles resisting his touch. He doesn’t let go, fingers dragging through her hair, thumb working circles into the knobs under her spine until she relents and melts against him. Dani closes her eyes, burying her face into his shoulder and even then, all can think about is how she's staining his sweater with someone else's blood.

\--

Dani blinks awake slowly, sun streaming in through her curtains and hitting her directly in the face. She sighs and turns into—wait, that’s not her pillow. She lifts her head up a little and focuses her gaze; it takes her a few moments to realize she’s fallen asleep on the couch. Her back is definitely going to be angry at her for that later.

She runs a hand over her face, letting out a slow breath as she pieces together the rest of last night. Malcolm had finished cleaning her up and made her a cup of tea while she changed clothes. She remembers lying down on the couch and a medical drama running in the background as Bright absently trailed his fingers through her hair—she must have fallen asleep and he left not long after.

Her fingers rub at her shoulder and back of her neck as she sits up and she glances down at her fingernails, not a trace of blood left behind and thankfully steady. She squeezes her knuckles and leans against the side of the couch and it’s then she realizes that there’s something going on in her kitchen.

When she gets up, pulling a blanket aside, she can hear the sound of sizzling and smell melted butter. She pauses at the doorframe, leaning against it as she watches Malcolm hold his cell phone between his ear and shoulder while he talks and cooks at the same time.

He hasn’t noticed her yet as he scrambles eggs, overturning them with a spatula, “Yeah, I’m still here, she hasn’t woken up yet. I don’t really blame her given last night.” He then glances up, spotting her out of the corner of his eye, offering a soft smile before motioning for her to sit at the kitchen table.

Malcolm makes a face to something that’s said over the phone, his eyebrows scrunching together before, “I gotta go, I’ll see you soon.” He almost drops the phone in the pan after he hangs up and turns the fire off so he can push eggs onto the plate in front of her.

“Gil?” She asks, voice still a little rough with sleep as she draws her legs up onto her chair.

He shakes his head, pouring hot water into a mug for her and then fishes in a drawer where she keeps the tea bags, “Edrisa,” He pauses, scrunching his nose, “She started wanting details about where I slept when she realized I hadn’t left your place.”

A soft laugh slips out of her mouth because right, that _does_ sound like Edrisa. She picks up a fork and begins poking at her eggs when he puts the pan down. He grabs a plate of finished bacon and puts that on the table too, sitting across from her. She rips open the tea bag he’s handing her and begins to steep the hot water, chewing on her lower lip.

She hadn’t expected him to stay, “Where _did_ you sleep?”

Bright smiles a little and draws his own mug of tea closer to himself. He no longer is wearing the sweater he showed up in, which makes her wonder if she got blood on it last night. The crisp, white t-shirt he’s wearing seems to burn a memory into her brain with how good he looks. Simple, comforting, soft.

“’Sleep’ is such a relative term,” Meaning that he didn’t, at all, but she supposes that shouldn’t surprise her, “I was on the couch with you all night. You were really unsettled,” He stims his fingers against the ceramic of his mug, “You know the bridge of your nose crinkles when you have nightmares.”

She huffs out a sound before rubbing at her nose instinctively, grabbing a piece of bacon to munch on. “You didn’t have to cook breakfast for me, I’m fine.” And at least it sounds like she’s being honest this time around.

Bright puts a hand in mock offense against his chest, grabbing at another fork on the table to steal some of her eggs, “Maybe I made food for myself, you ever think of that?”

She raises an eyebrow in disbelief, “Oh yeah? You’re hungry?”

He licks his lips after taking a very pointed bite and sets the fork down, leaning back into his chair. “Alright, fair enough.”

Dani finds herself smiling, leaning her chin on the knee she has folded up against her chest before slipping closer to the table to enjoy her breakfast. It could do with some toast but she’s not about to say that, even though the idea of teasing him is favorable. She eats her breakfast in a comfortable silence, wanting to ask why Edrisa was calling Bright but the conversation will eventually come, it’s only a matter of time. The urgency she felt last night to solve this case is still there in the background but it no longer feels like it’s killing her with approaching it in a way that makes sense.

She feels well rested and better suited to start the day, to give her concentration where it matters. Trying to rush through it last night would have been a mistake and she knows that now.

Malcolm stands to grab the hot water kettle and pours a little more into their mugs before sitting back down. He picks up a piece of bacon to take a bite out of and that’s probably the most he’ll eat all morning.

“What was her name?” She eventually asks, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. She’s got to shower before work today anyways, feeling more like herself than last night.

“Chloe Johnson, twenty-nine. From the preliminary information Edrisa and JT have gathered, she lived alone, worked as a teacher.”

Dani looks down at her plate and scrapes her fork against the edge before setting the utensil down, giving Malcolm her full attention. He’s not fooled by her though, not for a moment, his eyes grazing over her easily and reading everything she has to offer despite her reinforcing her walls. She wants to appear fine, strong, and even though she feels better compared to last night, this case is going to be hard for her no matter what she does. Bright knows that without a lot of effort so she’s not sure why she’s trying so hard to hide her emotions from him.

She presses on anyways, “Cause of death?”

He hesitates, almost as if he doesn’t want to tell her. She bites her tongue on saying something brash about how she was there, that she knows, and felt the last of that girl’s life slip between her fingers. But she still wants to hear him say it.

He clears his throat, “Edrisa counted forty stab wounds.” Dani’s one hand draws to her mouth and she closes her eyes for a moment, the feeling of blood sticking to her skin and clothes suddenly rushing onto her like a cold bucket of water. She can hear Malcolm shift in his seat, hand lying flat on the table like he wants to reach for her but doesn’t,

“I’d have to see the body to put together a better profile, I don’t know the severity and depth of each of the stab wounds. But the overkill is very clearly a lack of empathy.”

Dani nods, pushing her unfinished breakfast away in order to pull her mug of tea closer. She wraps her hands around it, letting the heat warm her palms, “So Chloe knew her killer.” It’s not a question.

She can tell Bright is painstakingly taking his time with what he’s telling her, though she’s not sure if he hasn’t connected the dots with the profile yet or if he’s worried about upsetting her. He gets up from the table and starts to clean up her kitchen, something that’s easier than looking at her when he speaks,

“There was no forced entry except for you,” He puts dishes and pans into the sink, Dani standing to help because she has to get a move on to get ready to head to the prescient anyways, “But like I said, I haven’t had a chance to really look at the autopsy yet.”

“But you know.” Dani says suddenly, pressing him just a little. She knows him and even though he only got a brief view of the crime scene last night and one descriptive phone call from Edrisa this morning, he’s a good profiler. He has the beginnings of something in mind even though he wants to wait to say it.

She watches him carefully as he lets out a slow sigh, leaning both of his hands against the counter. His blue eyes find hers before he dips his chin.

“From what I can tell, the knife wounds on Chloe’s body are clustered close together. There’s an intimacy there in order to achieve that; he didn’t surprise her. She trusted him.”

Dani swallows thickly and nods, putting her mug of tea in the sink before squeezing his wrist—a gentle acknowledgement for him being honest with her. “I uhm, I have to shower. I’ll see you at the precinct?”

Bright shrugs his one shoulder as she begins to leave her kitchen, “It’s backtracking for me to go home. Besides, you don’t have a dishwasher.”

She smiles a little, shaking her head, “Not all of us live in luxury lofts, Bright.”

He hums at the teasing, waving soap at her as she walks to her bathroom. The underlying message of _I’ll wait for you_ as he begins to do the dishes and she strips to shower settles warmly against her ribcage.

And for once, she doesn’t try to argue with him.

\--

It doesn’t surprise her that after a few hours in the conference room with JT, Gil and Malcolm that they manage to connect a lot of dots. She supposes that this lacks a lot of mystery that their regular cases do. Dani finds herself wondering if she hadn’t been there and called Gil onto the scene in the first place if it were something they would have even worked on. The insisting detective from the crime scene that she can’t remember the name of probably would have taken lead—though, that doesn’t exactly sit well with her. She has a feeling it would have been hard for her to get any information or assist if that would have happened.

With the interview Dani was able to conduct with Chloe’s sister, they learned that Chloe had been dating someone that her sibling didn’t like. Too controlling, always trying to fit her into an ideal relationship that they never were on the surface. Bright said that it fit with a narcissistic personality disorder, continuing to build the profile as the sister acknowledged that the boyfriend was the same person they caught on surveillance a block away from the brownstone the night of the murder.

JT was running him through facial recognition because Chloe’s sister only had a first name as the rest waited in the conference room. Dani feels like her nerves are raw and exposed, like stripped wire, burning spots to charcoal around her. She knows she’s being impatient, that not much time has passed, but she can’t quite help it either.

Malcolm sets down a cup of coffee in front of her, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he sits on the corner of the table. “You okay?”

She runs her hands over her face, letting out a soft sigh because it seems fairly obvious that she isn’t but she appreciates him asking. “I just keep seeing her face,” She admits after a moment, picking up the coffee to take a long sip. “I want to get this guy.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder at Gil who is taking a long look at the surveillance photos of Chloe’s boyfriend, “He didn’t even try to hide his face from the camera.”

Bright licks his lips, folding his hands onto his lap. “He wouldn’t, narcissists have a grandiose of self-importance. He wouldn’t be able to look away from a camera even if he tried.”

JT opens the door, tapping a file against the doorframe. “Mark Napier, has some priors for aggravated assault and battery. We got a home address.”

Dani quickly stands from the table as Malcolm grabs his coat to slip on, Gil taking a step forward and putting his hand up when she tries to move towards the door. “You’re staying here.”

The words bristle against her like a hot iron, “What? No. I need to be there. I want to be able to bring him in.”

“You’re too emotional.” He tells her gently and she knows he means well; she knows he’s _right_ and that he’s just looking out for her but it boils like bubbling tar in her chest nonetheless.

“How can you…of course I’m emotional,” She all but snaps, “Chloe died in my arms.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re not going.” He fixes the collar of his coat.

“Gil, with all due respect, I think Dani can handle herself,” Bright says after a moment, trying with one last ditch effort as he stands at the doorway with JT.

“This is coming from someone who _never_ listens and handles himself out in the field by jumping out of windows or cutting hands off?”

Malcolm narrows his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he can’t come up with an answer and JT leans closer to mumble, “He’s got a point, dude.”

Dani shakes her head, frustration strangling her words as she says, “Fine, just go. Go get him.”

With one last look at Bright as the three of them leave the conference room, she digs her heels into the ground and forces herself to sit down and sip her coffee, trying not to count the minutes until they come back.

\--

She knows that Gil made a decision that was best for her and its part of the reason, being able to make calls like that, that make him a good boss. Not only that but he’s always been looking out for her when she needed it, when she can’t quite do it for herself. Her being there to bring Mark in was a bad idea and she _knows_ that despite angrily stewing as she waits for them to come back. One wrong move or well-placed comment on the perp’s part and she’s not sure she’d be able to say that she wouldn’t give into emotion, fire her gun when she thinks too long about Chloe’s face or how she suffered.

Gil and JT put Mark into conference room four, across from the room her and Bright are in, as soon as they walk in. She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to stop pacing in front of the white-board as she thinks.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” Bright says after a moment, startling her from her thoughts as he stands from the table. She looks down at her shoes and lets out a slow breath, shrugging her one shoulder.

“Could be worse, at least I’m getting my steps in.”

He smirks gently and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks over to her, motioning to her one hand with his chin. “How often does that happen?”

Dani looks down to see her hand trembling, something that feels so organic at this point that she didn’t even realize she was doing it. She swallows, trying to get herself to stop as she uncrosses her arms but isn’t as successful as she wants to be.

“It’s just a combination of things, doesn’t happen all the time. I noticed it happening a lot more once I finished rehab.”

Malcolm doesn’t say anything for a moment but acknowledges her comment with a gentle nod, offering his hand to her. She looks down at it, hesitating, before she lays her palm on top of his. He covers her hand with his other one and squeezes, “It’s your body’s response to stress, not filling the tick,” He smiles a little and she can tell within that moment he completely understands what she’s going through. She bites down on the tip of her tongue with wanting to ask what his hand tremors are about, even though she thinks she can guess, “You need a good distraction. Do you like magic?”

Dani rases an eyebrow, a soft laugh emptying from her throat, “You’re not about to do a card trick, are you?”

He grins and moves his one hand, “No,” and quickly slips it behind her ear, a slight of hand that’s utterly ridiculous and somehow endearing at the same time. He ‘pulls’ a coin free, flashing it in front of her face.

“That’s ridiculous.” She states, grabbing the coin from him.

“Yes,” He agrees before motioning to her fingers with a slight tip of his chin, “But it worked, didn’t it?”

Dani opens her mouth as she looks down at the hand he’s still holding, noticing that her fingers aren’t trembling into his touch. She shakes her head, amusement swimming in her eyes as she smiles at him, something warm and genuine she hasn’t felt for a while over these past long days.

JT opens the door, pausing when he sees them, “Uh, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to give you an update on Mark.” Malcolm lets go of her hand and they begin to walk towards JT, Dani’s eyes washing over her partner’s face, “Booking him won’t be difficult; murder weapon was found in the trunk of his car. Blood matches Chloe’s and his fingerprints match the ones found on the scene.”

“But?” She asks, feeling like there’s one coming.

He shrugs his one shoulder, “Dude’s just weird. He’s not asking for a lawyer and he’s not denying that he killed Chloe but…what’s the motive? Gil’s been in there with him for almost a half an hour and he’s not giving us anything about why.”

Malcolm runs a hand over the lower half of his face, his voice contemplative, “That’s not surprising for a narcissistic personality disorder. He believes that he’s…special, for lack of a better word. Only certain people will understand why that is; his sense of entitlement probably overshadows any actual motive for murder. He—” Bright stops short for a moment, glancing at Dani.

She already doesn’t like where he’s going with this but prompts him to finish his sentence with a look.

He sighs, “He killed Chloe because he could.”

Dani feels something disconnect in her chest, crumble, fall away, emotions bubbling to the surface that heats the skin of her cheeks and the back of her neck. No, there…there _has_ to be something more than this.

There has to be a reason, doesn’t there?

“No,” She says, refusing to accept this, “It can’t be that senseless.” She holds Bright’s gaze, “It just can’t.”

He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, pulling at straws when she wants further explanation when there isn’t one to give. He glances up at JT with a patient sound, “It…well she could have denied advances or she didn’t want to play into what his fantasy of love was, I guess, but—”

“Let me go talk to him,” She says suddenly, taking a step forward even though JT puts his arm up to block her from leaving the room.

“Not a good idea, Powell, you know that. Gil’s workin’ him; my guess is that they’re almost done. Motive, I hate to say it, don’t add up to much when you’ve got evidence. He’s goin’ away.”

And that’s what? Supposed to comfort her somehow? That’s not _good_ enough. “I just need five minutes…” She trails off as she sees past JT, the door to conference room four opening up, Mark being led out by Gil.

Dani takes the opportunity of JT saying something to Bright and stalks past him, her intention of closing the distance clear in her steps. She must accidently bump into the door to the conference room that they’re in because there’s a soft bang that gathers Gil and Mark’s attention, their gaze falling onto her. She doesn’t get very far because either JT or Bright try to take her arm to stop her.

She manages to wrench herself free, body shaking as Mark’s eyes slip onto her like a warm embrace. He smirks, suddenly recognizing who she is, “I know you,” He licks his lips, “You tried your best, yeah?”

“Get him the hell out of here.” Gil snaps, pushing him forward and motioning to officers to take him down to booking.

An arm secures itself around her waist, nearly having to tug her back into the conference room as she tries to move forward again—though she’s not sure to do what. To have words with him? To hit him? She has no idea what she wants. She knows instantly that the person holding onto her is Malcolm, his hand squeezing her shaking one as he whispers ‘stop, he’s not worth it’ against her temple.

JT leaves them, crossing the precinct to say something to Gil as Dani succumbs, gives up, allowing herself to lean more fully against Bright’s chest.

\--

Dani takes a long stroll around one of the aisles in a hole-in-the-wall tea place that’s near the precinct on her break. She just…needs something to do, paperwork and write-ups from the last case weighing too heavily on her mind that it feels like a cinder block is on her shoulders. And until there’s another case to work on—

Tea’s the perfect distraction, she’s been meaning to find time to come here anyways and pick something new. Not that she doesn’t love the English Breakfast and Earl Gray stacking up in her desk but it doesn’t hurt to break the cycle with another flavor profile. She pauses at a small bag of a Rosehip blend, taking it down off the shelf to look at the description on the back.

“I thought I might find you here.”

She smiles softly as she turns to see Bright approaching her, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Yeah?”

His smile mirrors her own, looking down at the bag in her hand. “This is still one of our places, isn’t it?”

Dani feels a little foolish that she didn’t realize that. This tea shop, the diner; they were definitely _their_ places with how often they visited them while working a case, “I just couldn’t do pancakes today.”

Malcolm’s mouth opens a little in mock surprise, turning to pull another bag of tea off the shelf to take a look at, “Well, I won’t tell the diner you said that.”

She laughs gently and runs her thumb over the top of the package, “I was considering this. Rosehips.”

He hums and leans closer to look at the ingredients with her, “You know some people call it Hipberry?" She raises an eyebrow and he continues, "It's because the name comes from the fruit of the rose plant, the rounded part of the flower just below the petals. There are no actual roses in the tea. If you want something tangy but has a sweet aroma, this will be nice. I'd put honey in it, myself."

She narrows her eyes, “Is there _any_ subject you don’t know about?”

Malcolm clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I know almost nothing about bats.” She blinks, not believing him and he smiles a little sheepishly, shrugging his one shoulder, “I said _almost_ nothing.”

Dani bumps her shoulder into his as they walk towards the register, “Share this with me when we get back?”

He nods and she knows he’s taking a look at her hands, watching her pay for the tea and stick the bag in her pocket before they walk out. Malcolm lets her keep the silence as long as she wants, not deciding to bring anything up until they’re right outside the precinct, “You seem better.”

“I am,” She curls her hair around her ear, chewing on words under her tongue that she isn’t quite sure how to say, “I just, I’m feeling a little…ashamed about Chloe’s case, how worked up I got.”

Bright scoffs, capturing her gaze with his own, “Dani, you have nothing to be ashamed about.”

She doesn’t know how to explain it, the thin line she feels like she’s walking and occasionally straddling. She knows being empathetic is important but she…feels like it sometimes engulfs her, overwhelms her to the point where she can’t do her job well.

“I just don’t like how bothered I got.” Is all she can say, hoping he understands.

And he does, of course he does. He takes a step forward and gently squeezes her wrist, his thumb traveling over her veins, “I know, but that's what makes you a great cop.” He smiles gently, “I think when the bad things _don’t_ bother you or you don’t care about them at all, that's when you need to start worrying.”

Dani lets out a slow breath, considering his words and even though they dig under her skin in a way she can’t explain…she knows that he’s right. Being able to empathize makes her a good cop, even though it doesn’t always feel like it. She bumps their shoulders together, looping her arm through his as they turn to walk into the precinct. Sometimes she thinks it’ll be better to tackle what she needs to head on and alone. But then she realizes, as she holds onto Malcolm’s arm and listens to him ramble about Hipberry tea again, that it’s even better _not_ to be let alone.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I'm at blainesebastian on tumblr if you want to talk brightwell :) thanks to anyone who leaves kudos or comments!


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